


As Time Goes By

by theoofoof



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoofoof/pseuds/theoofoof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casablanca. December 1941. A variation on the classic film. Harry as Rick, Ruth as Ilsa, and Adam as Laszlo with a couple of other familiar characters thrown into the mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a recent re-watch of the classic. I really hope this works and does justice to both the original projects. I also hope there is no confusion over Harry's name in this. I will refer to him as Harry, but other characters (with the exception of a select few, whom I'm sure you can imagine) will call him Henry. This is to reflect the use of Rick/Richard in the original film. :)

_With the coming of the second world war many eyes in imprisoned Europe turned hopefully or desperately toward the freedom of the Americas. Lisbon became the great embarkation point, but not everybody could get to Lisbon directly. And so a tortuous roundabout refugee trail sprang up. Paris to Marseilles. Across the Mediterranean to Oran. Then, by train or car or foot, across the rim of Africa to Casablanca in French Morocco. Here, the fortunate ones, through money or influence or luck might obtain exit visas and scurry to Lisbon. And then from Lisbon to the New World. But the others wait in Casablanca. And wait… and wait… and wait._

* * *

Harry (Henry) Pearce sits in the office at the back of his club. He fingers the receipts already taken today; it is shaping up to be a very profitable day indeed. His bar, ‘Henry’s Café’ is one of the hottest nightspots in the whole of Casablanca. The stylish nightclub and casino attracts a varied clientele; Vichy French, Italian, and German officials; refugees desperate to reach the still neutral United States; and those who prey on them.

As he calculates his profits, Harry listens to the wireless news report that two German officers were murdered on a train and that the murderer is reportedly headed for Casablanca. He’s heard the rumours circulating all day, but it’s always good to have it confirmed. The rumour is that the murderer had stolen two ‘letters of transit’; documents that would allow the bearer to travel freely around German-controlled Europe and to neutral Portugal. Documents that were almost priceless to those stranded in Casablanca, desperate to escape to the United States. The police are in a state of panic; the customary round up of refugees, liberals and other suspicious characters has already started.

Luckily for Harry, he keeps a low profile and has a good relationship with the local law enforcement; he pays them a portion of his profits to be allowed to remain open and operate with a degree of autonomy. It annoys him, but since they have never used any strong-arm tactics, he dismisses it as just another cost of doing business.

Whilst sitting alone, Harry is suddenly startled by a loud knock on the back door. He opens the door slightly to find a small round faced man he recognised as Gary Hicks, a petty crook whose business is selling exit visas to refugees; not out of any charitable urges of his own, but simply to make a profit. He is panting, as if he's been running, and panic fills his eyes.

“Mr Pearce, you must help me!” he insists, pushing the door open further.

“I don't have to help anyone. I stick my neck out for no-one,” Harry replies coldly, trying to shut the door.

“Please Mr Pearce. I just need you to hold this.” He shoves an envelope into Harry’s hand along with several thousand Francs. “The money is all yours if you’ll just keep this package for me.”

“For how long?”

“An hour. Perhaps a little longer.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it here overnight,” Harry says.

“Don’t be afraid of that. Please keep them for me?” Harry takes the proffered envelope and (Urgate) runs off into the night.

Harry looks at the envelope; holding it up to the light. He can’t see its contents but feels uneasy about what might be in there. He adds the money to the takings for the day, before returning to the bar. 

In the bar his pianist, Malcolm, is entertaining the patrons with a rousing rendition of ‘Knock on Wood’. He likes Malcolm, he is warm hearted and agreeable, and is a fiercely loyal friend. They’ve been through a lot together and he’s like a brother to him. Approaching the piano, Harry slips the envelope out of his pocket and under the top of the piano; onto a small shelf he has fixed there.

* * *

He heads outside for some fresh air to find the Prefect of Police, Captain Julien Siviter, sitting at a table all alone.

“Good evening Henry.” Harry has always used his proper first name in Casablanca; the softer version of his name holds too much pain for him.

“Good evening, Julien.” As they greet each other a plane flies low over their heads; jut having taken off. “The plane to Lisbon,” Siviter observes. He also observes Harry watching the plane somewhat wistfully. “You would like to be on it?”

“Why. What’s in Lisbon?”

“A way out of here; to America. From there I’m sure you could get back to England. I’ve often speculated on why you don’t return to England. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a politician’s wife? I like to think that you killed a man; it’s the romantic in me.”

Harry will not be drawn on the subject so merely gives a perfunctory answer. “It’s a combination of all three.”

“But what in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?”

“My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters. “

“The waters? We’re in the desert.”

“Clearly I was misinformed,” he deadpans.

Thankfully for Harry, their conversation is curtailed by the appearance of one of his croupiers, advising him that one of their patrons has won a considerable amount of money and they need access to the safe. Harry returns inside to retrieve the cash, leaving Siviter to enjoy the night air.

***

He returns to the bar after handling the gambling room problems to find Siviter has decided to come inside.

“Henry, there’s going to be some excitement here tonight. We’re going to make an arrest in your café.”

Harry sighs. “Again?”

“Well this is no ordinary arrest; a murderer no less.”

“How do you know he’ll be here?” Harry asks.

“Come now Henry, your club is the most popular hang out in Casablanca. Everybody comes to ‘Henry’s’. If you are thinking of warning him; don’t put yourself out. He cannot escape.”

“How could I warn him when I have no knowledge of his identity?”

“Hmmm,” replies Siviter, eyeing Harry suspiciously. “We’ll also have an important guest here tonight; Major Masel of the Third Reich. We want him to be here when we make the arrest as a demonstration of our efficiency.”

Harry nods, but Siviter hovers as if wants to say something. “You clearly have something on your mind Julien, so why don’t you spit it out,” he says, pouring them both a brandy.

“I wanted to give you a word of advice. There are many exit visas sold in this café but we know you’ve never sold one. That is the reason we permit you to remain open.”

“I thought it was because I let you win at Roulette,” quips Harry.

“That is another reason,” agrees Siviter. “There is a man in Casablanca on his way to America. He’ll offer a fortune to anyone who’ll get him a visa.”

“What’s his name?” Harry enquires.

“Adam Carter.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Adam Carter?”

“Henry, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you so impressed.”

“Well, he’s succeeded in impressing half the world.” Adam Carter is a nationalist writer and anti-Nazi partisan who sees defeating the Nazis as his _raison d'ètre_. He is somewhat of a guru to the members of the Resistance. 

“It’s my duty to see that he doesn’t impress the other half,” Siviter informs him. “Carter must never reach America. He stays in Casablanca.”

“Well if nothing else it’ll be interesting to see how he manages his escape. I mean, he escaped the concentration camp. The Nazi’s have been chasing him all over Europe.”

“This is the end of the chase.”

“Twenty thousand francs says it isn’t.” Harry has heard of his escapades; he is confident in his assessment of Carter’s skills.

“Is that a serious offer?”

Harry nods. “I’ve just had to pay out twenty; I’d like to get it back.”

“Make it ten. I’m only a poor corrupt official after all.”

“Done.”

“You won’t win y’know; no matter how clever he is, he still needs an exit visa. Or should I say two.”

“Why two?”

“He is travelling with a lady.”

“He’ll take one,” Harry comments, for that is what he would do these days. There may have been a time when he wouldn’t but things change.

“I think not. I’ve seen her. And he did not leave her in Marseilles or in Oran, so he certainly won’t leave her here. But it doesn’t matter. There is no exit visa for him.”

“Whatever gave you the impression that I would be interested in helping Carter escape?”

“Because my dear Henry, I suspect that under that cynical shell; you’re a sentimentalist at heart.”

“Maybe I was once,” replies Harry regretfully.


	2. Chapter 2

Major Masel arrives and is seated at the best table in the house at Siviter’s request. A few moments later Harry spots Hicks enter the bar, looking considerably more presentable than the last time he had seen him. He wonders if he should warn him, but Siviter’s words come back to him. They already know who he is; there is no escape. So he waits. Twenty minutes pass before he spots the French police approach Hicks. Hicks tries to run and shots are fired by both parties. He runs into Harry, grabbing his lapels.

“Mr Pearce, help me,” he shouts.

“Don’t be a fool,” Harry tells him. “You can’t get away.”

“Hide me. Do something. You must help me!”

Harry can say nothing else as the French police restrain Hicks and drag him out of the club. He watches him go. He realises now what the contents of the envelope are; they are the letters of transit that had been stolen from the two German soldiers. Harry sighs at having the responsibility for them thrust upon him and, aware of the danger they bring with them, resolves to move them from their current hiding place as soon as possible.

He apologises to his customers for the disturbance and instructs them that there will be no further disruptions to their evening. He instructs Malcolm to continue playing and attempts to return to the tranquillity of his office. On his way he is accosted by Siviter and introduced to Major Masel. The Major asks Harry to join them for a drink but he refuses.

“I’ll join you but I shan’t drink, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Henry never drinks with customers,” Siviter tells Major Masel.

“Never mix business with pleasure; that’s my philosophy,” Harry explains. In reality it’s more for his own protection. If he were to become inebriated, he might accidentally let something slip about his past; something he can’t afford to do.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” the Major asks. “Unofficially.”

Harry shrugs. “Make it official if you like.”

“What is your nationality?”

“I’m a drunkard,” quips Harry.

Siviter smiles. “And that makes Henry a citizen of the world.”

The Major doesn’t seem amused so Harry replies truthfully. “I was born in London if that helps you.”

“I understand that you came from Paris during the occupation. Are you one of those who can’t imagine Germans in their beloved Paris?”

“I have no particular fondness for Paris,” he replies. He doesn’t like thinking of his time there; too many painful memories.

“Can you imagine us in London?”

Harry wants to spit at the question;  despite his proclaimed apathy, his political sympathies lie with the Allies. But he cannot afford to let that show, not here. “Ask me again, if you get there.”

“Who do you think will win the war?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Mr Pearce. An enemy of the Reich has come to Casablanca and we are checking up on anyone who may be of help to him.”

“Well my interest in whether Adam Carter stays or goes is purely a sporting one.” He and Siviter share a look.

“So you have no sympathy for the fox?”

“Not particularly. I understand the hound’s point of view too,” he lies.

“Adam Carter published the foulest lies in Prague newspapers until the very day we marched in. Even after that he continued to print scandal sheets in a cellar.”

“One must admit he has great courage,” notes Siviter.

“I admit he’s very clever; three times he has slipped through our fingers, continuing his activities in Paris. We intend not to let it happen again,” declares Masel.

Harry has heard enough. He stands. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen. Your business is politics, mine is running a saloon.”

* * *

Malcolm watches Harry’s exchange with the German Major with interest; wanting to keep an eye out for Harry. He is very protective of his old friend and doesn’t want to see him get into trouble. Once Harry leaves the German’s table, Malcolm returns to his playing, his fingers gliding over the keys, providing soft background music. He almost stumbles with some of the notes when he catches sight of the bar’s newest patrons. A couple; one of whom he hasn’t seen a good few years and thought he’d never see again. Ruth Evershed.

He watches as they are shown to their table, Ruth sees him but maintains a stoic face as she passes him. He glances round for Harry; he is not in sight. Malcolm isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

* * *

Adam and Ruth are shown to their table and approached by a man who covertly identifies himself as a member of the Resistance. It’s not the man they are looking for, Hicks, but  another. Adam is about to enquire about Hicks but their conversation is cut short by the arrival of Siviter at their table. He introduces himself and joins them, ordering champagne on his bill; the one he never pays. After the introductions are made, Ruth enquires about Malcolm.

“Captain; the man playing the piano… I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

“Malcolm? He came from Paris with Henry.”

Ruth’s heart starts to beat faster; could it be? “Who is Henry?”

“Mademoiselle you are in ‘Henry’s’ and Henry is...” he trails off, wondering how best to describe him.

“Is what?” Ruth prompts.

“He’s the kind of man that… well, if I were a woman I’d be in love with Henry.”

It is him; it has to be, Ruth thinks. She wondered if this day would ever come. Not that it has, she isn’t sure what to do.

Major Masel approaches and demands to see them tomorrow at Captain Siviter’s office. Once the Major has left, Adam goes to continue his conversation with the Resistance fighter to try and find out about Hicks’s whereabouts. So Ruth, having been left alone, goes and speaks  to Malcolm.

“Hello Malcolm.”

“Hello Ruth. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s been a long time,” Ruth agrees with a smile.

“It has. A lot of water under the bridge.”

“Will you play for me Malcolm? Some of the old songs?”

“Of course.” He begins to play and she sits at the table next to the piano. He barely gets three bars into the first song before Ruth asks about Harry.

“Where is Harry?”

“I don’t know; I’m afraid I haven’t seen him all night. I think perhaps he went home.” Malcolm is not comfortable lying but he desperately wants to protect Harry. He knows he can’t hide her presence forever, not if she is on the arm of Adam Carter, but he would like to inform Harry of the situation in private. “He has a girl you see… well, a woman…”

“You used to be a much better liar, Malcolm,” Ruth comments, sipping her drink.

Malcolm sighs. “Leave him alone Ruth,” he pleads. “I don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Ruth doesn’t reply, instead she makes the one request Malcolm hopes she wouldn’t. “Play it once Malcolm; for old time’s sake.”

Malcolm feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean Ruth.” Ruth raises her eyebrow at him. “I can’t remember it,” he lies again.

Ruth is not having it. “Play it Malcolm,” she asks sweetly. “Play ‘As Time Goes By.”

She smiles and, despite her history with Harry, Malcolm finds himself unable to refuse her. His fingers dance over the ivory keys and he begins to sing.

_“You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply. As time goes by.”_

Ruth looks wistfully into the distance as the words wash over her; transported to a play far away, a long time ago.

* * *

Harry is sat in his office when he hears the music in the bar change and Malcolm’s voice drift through the air. He listens for a moment before recognising the song. Upon realising what his old friend is playing he feels a crushing pain in his chest. He stands and storms from his office, Malcolm still singing.

_“And when two lovers woo, they still say I love you. On that you can rely. No matter what the future brings. As time goes by. “_

“Malcolm I thought I asked you never to play-” Harry’s words die in his mouth as he sees Ruth for the first time in nearly 18 months.


	3. Chapter 3

_Previously…_

_“Malcolm I thought I asked you never to play-” Harry stops short as he spots Ruth, seated at the table next to Malcolm._

***

Harry draws in a sharp breath as he looks at the woman he never thought he’d set eyes on again. Every detail of her face and hair is exactly as he remembers it. The vision stuns him momentarily.

Malcolm makes a subtle exit but not before hearing Ruth speak. “Hello Harry.”

“Hello Ruth.”

They don’t get any further than that, as Captain Siviter approaches, Adam Carter close behind. “Ah Henry, I see you’ve already met Miss Evershed. This is-“

“This is Adam Carter,” Ruth introduces.

“One hears a lot about Henry in Casablanca,” comments Adam.

“And about Adam Carter everywhere,” returns Harry, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“Won’t you join us for a drink?”

“Oh Henry never-,” Captain Siviter begins to explain.

“I think on this occasion Julien, I will make an exception. Thank you.”

The Captain’s eyes widen. “Well, a precedent is being broken.” He gestures to a waiter for some drinks.

“This is a very interesting café. I congratulate you,” Adam says.

“And I congratulate you,” Harry says.

“What for?”

“Your work,” he tells him. As much as he hates the fact that Carter is travelling with Ruth, he can’t deny that the work he is doing for the Resistance is valuable.

“Thank you. I try.”

“We all try; you succeed.” Harry responds.

Captain Siviter looks between Ruth and Harry and speaks up. “I can’t get over you two,” he says to Harry. “She was asking about you earlier in a way that made me extremely jealous.”

A feint blush appears on Ruth’s cheeks. “I wasn’t sure you were the same. The name you see. Henry/Harry… The last time me met was-”

“Was at La Belle Aurore.”

Ruth smiles. “You remember?” Harry nods slightly. “Of course that was the day the Germans marched into Paris,” she continues.

“Not an easy day to forget,” comments Harry adding to himself, ‘in more ways than one.’

“No,” agrees Ruth.

“I remember every detail. The Germans wore grey, you wore blue.”

“Yes. I’ve put that dress away. I won’t wear it again until the Germans march out.”

“Henry, you’re becoming quite human,” Siviter interrupts. “I suppose we have you to thank for that?” he says to Ruth.

Adam has been watching the conversation between Ruth and Harry for some time and isn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Ruth, I hate to be the one to say this, but it is getting rather late.

Siviter looks at his watch. “So it is. And we have a curfew hear in Casablanca. It wouldn’t do for the chief of police to be found drinking after hours and have to fine himself.”

As Siviter drones on, Harry can’t help but stare at Ruth. She really hasn’t changed; she’s still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. When he looks at her all his old feelings for her return, along with the waves of pain at the way things ended.

As Ruth and Adam rise from the table, Harry offers to pick up the tab, causing Siviter to raise an eyebrow; he is breaking another precedent.

Ruth turns to Harry. “Say goodnight to Malcolm for me?”

“I will.”

“There’s still nobody in the world who can play ‘As Time Goes By’ like Malcolm,’ she tells him.

“He hasn’t played it in a long time,” admits Harry.

Ruth can see the hurt in Harry’s eyes, but conscious of Adam, she feels powerless to say anything further. “Good night Harry.”

He nods to Ruth and her companion as they take their leave, before sitting back down at the table, downing his drink and swiftly pouring himself another.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry helps to empty the club of its patrons and shut down the gambling room. Malcolm, who is working alongside him, says nothing. Once they are done, Harry takes to the bar with a bottle of scotch, pouring himself one large measure after another. He is drowning his sorrows.

After seeing Harry down four successive drinks, Malcolm speaks up. “You should go to bed.”

“Should I?” he asks bitterly

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” He knows he probably sounds like a petulant child, but he doesn’t really care at the moment.

“Well I’m not leaving you alone here in this state.”

 “I’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for someone.”

Malcolm sighs. “Do you really think that-?”

Harry cuts him off. “She’s coming back Malcolm. I know she’s coming back.”

Malcolm isn’t convinced. “Come on, we’ll take the car and drive all night. We can come back when she’s gone.”

“Go home Malcolm.”

“No. I’m staying right here.” He sits on his piano stool defiantly and begins to play; soft notes floating through the air.

Harry is silent for a few moments before banging his fist on the bar out of sheer frustration. “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” He drops his head into his hands. “What’s that you’re playing?” Harry asks Malcolm a few moments later.

“Just a little composition of my own.”

“Well stop it, you know what I want to hear.”

Malcolm feigns ignorance. “I don’t.”

“You played it for her; you can play it for me.”

“Harry I don’t think that’s such a good-“

“If she can stand it, I can!” Harry snaps. “Play it!”

“If you’re sure.”

The opening strains of ‘As Time Goes By’ fill the bar once more; Harry remembers a time where he was younger and happier; a time where love had blossomed…

* * *

_Harry had been stationed in Paris; on secondment from MI5 to the War Office .He had been their eyes and ears in France since a month after the outbreak of War. It had been no secret that Hitler planned on invading France, so the British Government had thought it prurient to have an asset already in place in Paris for when the time came. He had had a little office a few streets away from the British Embassy (although he was to have no direct contact with them unless it was an emergency) and he lived in the flat above his office._

_Ruth had been hired as his secretary, recruited from the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park. Her job there had been to listen to and transcribe communications from the Germans, but she had only been there a few weeks when she had been tasked to support Harry. She had caused ructions at Bletchley; believing that women were more than capable of breaking the German codes, so her superiors had been delighted when War Office had come looking for a woman to be secretary to Harry; it got her out of their hair. She, of course, had accepted the position without question, feeling that it would allow her to make more of a contribution to the war effort._

_Harry had quickly realised that Ruth was far too intelligent to be just his secretary, so he had given her additional tasks, involving analysis and code-breaking. She had excelled and had risen to every challenge he threw at her. She had quickly become his confidante; he would tell her things that he had never dreamed of telling colleagues before; they had shared their thoughts and fears, their worries and hopes and their relationship had blossomed into something more akin to good friends than co-workers._

_It had been a bright sun-drenched morning in June 1940 when Ruth had entered Harry’s office to find him in deep thought, huddled over what appeared to be a telegram._

_“A franc for your thoughts?” she had asked._

_“You’re becoming too influenced by this place. In England you’d only pay a penny,” he’d reminded her._

_“I’m willing to be over-charged,” she had retorted with a smile._

_“It’s a telegram from an asset at the Maginot Line. The Germans have broken through; nothing can stop them now. They’ll reach Paris by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest._

_Panic had risen in Ruth’s throat. “They’ll find out who you are; who we are, what we do. We won’t be safe here.”_

_“You are right of course. I’m probably on their blacklist already. Once they arrive we will not be able to stay here. I’ll contact London; find out my orders.”_

_Harry had invited Ruth for dinner the next evening; to La Belle Aurore. They had enjoyed a lovely dinner, with Malcolm playing their favourite song; ‘As Time Goes By’. Harry was telling her of his plans to travel Europe and visit all the great capitals once the war was over when they were disturbed by a public service announcement. The Germans would arrive tomorrow._

_Once the announcement was over, they returned to their table._

_“We are in danger,” Ruth had reminded him. “We must leave Paris.”_

_“I know. I have orders to leave for Marseilles. I have booked us on the train tomorrow; it leaves at five o’clock; I’ll pick you up at half past four.”_

_“I’d rather meet you at the station if that’s alright? I have things to do in the city before we leave.”_

_“Okay. At quarter to five.”_

_The rest of the evening was filled with a little anxiety about the future but Harry had assured her that once they were on the train everything would be fine. She was still worrying, however, when he dropped her off at her flat later on._

_“Harry, if something does happen; i-if you don’t get away or… something should keep us apart I want you to know that I…” She had trailed off then, overcome by emotion. ‘No, better to leave that as something never said for now,’ she had though to herself, ‘something wonderful never said.’  As an alternative to telling him how she felt, she stood on her tip toes and cupped his face, before pressing her lips to his softly. She pulled away with a small smile and told him to take care and not to get shot, before disappearing inside. Harry felt like he was on top of the world and he whistled all the way home._

_The next day he had stood waiting at the railway station in the pouring rain. As it had approached five o’clock; Harry had begun to worry; there was no sign of Ruth. The station had got busier and busier; everyone had known that this might be their last chance to leave the city._

_Finally, Malcolm had found Harry on the platform. “Have you seen her?” Harry had asked._

_“I’m sorry Harry; I can’t find her,” he’d informed him sadly. “I went to her flat, but she’s gone. This came to your office just after you left.” He’d handed Harry an envelope. Harry had seized it and tore it open._

_‘Harry,_

_I am sorry to do this to you but I cannot leave with you. You won’t believe me but this is the right thing to do. Salus populi suprema lex._

_Perhaps our paths will cross again someday. You will be in my thoughts often. Quos amor verus tenuit tenebit._

_Enjoy your Grand Tour and Look after yourself_

_Stubborn Mule’_

_Harry had still been staring at the note, his tears mixing with the raindrops, when the conductor blew his whistle._

_“That’s the last call, Harry,” Malcolm had told him, but he hadn’t responded. “Harry!” Malcolm had urged. Still Harry had stood still. “If we don't go now, that's it. We're stuck here, Harry. You have your orders.”_

_Malcolm had practically herded him onto the train, and Harry had spent the entire journey to Marseilles alternating between staring out of the window and staring at her note. By the time he’d arrived is spirit had been broken He couldn’t bring himself to face the reality of life as a spy without Ruth by his side; it didn’t hold the same appeal no she had gone. A few days later he saw his chance to get out; a boat to Oran was docking the following day. He had resigned immediately; speaking to Winston Churchill himself. He had tried to convince Harry to reconsider, but Harry had been resolute._

_Malcolm had accompanied Harry to Oran and beyond; worried about his friend’s state of mind. It was a good job he had done too. By the time they’d arrived in Casablanca, Harry had begun to wonder if he’d made the right choice; he had deserted his country at a time of great need. He couldn’t go back though; he was trapped. He had begun to sink into a depression and one night, after drinking himself into a stupor he realised he couldn’t continue like this. So, he had decided to use his considerable inheritance from his Grandfather to set up ‘Henry’s’.  It had taken a while but, with Malcolm’s help he had rebuilt his life and gotten over Ruth and his previous life. Or at least he had thought he had._

* * *

Silence fills the air as the song ends. Malcolm approaches Harry and notes that the whiskey bottle is significantly emptier than it had been when he’d started playing. He is somewhat unsuccessfully trying to persuade Harry to go up to bed when they hear the café door open. They spin around to face the source of the disturbance and there stands Ruth; her soft features bathed in moonlight. Harry merely stares as she approaches him.

“Harry, I have to talk to you.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say, do you?”

“Harry please! I need to explain.” She eyes the near empty whiskey bottle, but naively hopes she’ll still be able to reason with him.

“What is there to explain? You must have known what I felt for you; and I thought you felt the same. Obviously not though, as you left me for Carter! You’d better go before he misses you.”

“It’s not like that, Harry.”

“So tell me then”, he growls angrily, grabbing her hand. “What really happened? Why did you leave? If it wasn’t Carter, was it somebody else?”

She snatches her hand back. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. Not tonight; not like this.” With a tear in her eye, she leaves the bar. Harry, who is now alone, after Malcolm had made another subtle exit, drops his head to his hands once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Ruth and Adam go to Captain Siviter’s office the following morning as requested to be told that there will be no exit visas available to them. Major Masel offers Adam a deal; they can have two exit visas and leave for Lisbon the following day if he will inform him of the names and whereabouts of every Resistance leader across Europe.

Adam refuses to reveal the names. He didn’t give them up whilst being tortured in a concentration camp, he’s certainly not going to give them up now. He reminds Major Masel that even if he kills all the leaders and members of the Resistance, there are thousands of others who will rise up and take their places.

Major Masel makes veiled threats on Adam’s life, but he is not worried. Casablanca is part of unoccupied France; they can’t touch him here. It is in this meeting that Adam and Ruth also discover that Hicks, their source of the letters of transit, is dead.

Adam hears on the grapevine, that there is a black market trader, Zafar Younis, who may be able to help get them a pair of exit visas so they go and see him at his bar ‘The Blue Parrott’; a rival to ‘Henry’s’. They explain their situation, but Zafar cannot offer any assistance.

“Unfortunately I am not able to help you Monsieur Carter. I’m afraid word has got around; the Germans want you to stay put. I may be an influential and respected man, but I’d be signing my own death warrant if I did anything to assist you, Monsieur Carter.” Zafar turns to Ruth. “But for you Mademoiselle, it is a different matter.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Ruth replies.

“I may be able to acquire one exit visa for you.”

“You mean for me to go on alone?”

Zafar nods. “And only alone.”

Adam considers the offer for a moment. “I’d stay here and keep trying; I’m sure in a little while-”

“May I be frank, Monsieur?” interjects Zafar. “It would take a miracle to get you out of Casablanca and well, the Germans have outlawed miracles.”

“We are only interested in two visas,” Ruth tells Zafar firmly.

“Ruth, don’t be hasty.”

“No Adam; we must stay together.”

Zafar rises. “I shall leave you to discuss this; I’ll be at the bar when you have reached a decision.”

“I won’t make you stay here Ruth; that wasn’t part of the plan. You must get out of here.”

“If our situations were reversed, would you leave without me?”

Adam looks unsure for a moment, then voice trembling, states, “Yes. Yes I would.”

“You can’t lie to me. When I had trouble getting out of Lille, why didn’t you leave me there? Or when I was sick in Marseille and held us up for two weeks and you were in danger, why didn’t you go on without me then.”

“It’s different; you’re a-”

“You dare finish that sentence with ‘you’re a woman,’ and it won’t be the German’s you have to worry about.” She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “We’re in this together, Adam. Come on. Zafar is waiting for our answer.”

“I’m sorry Monsieur Younis, but it’s two visa’s or none at all,” Adam announces, standing with his arm wrapped protectively across Ruth’s back.

Zafar studies Ruth for a moment and replies, “Yes I can understand your desire to remain together. If I may make a suggestion; why I do not know, as it won’t profit me in the slightest. You have heard about Hicks and the letters of transit, yes?”

Adam and Ruth share a look. “There have been some… murmurings.”

“Well, the letters weren’t found on Hicks when he was arrested and as yet they remain unaccounted for.”

“Have you any idea where they are?” Adam asks.

“I will venture to guess that Hicks left them with Henry. He’s a difficult one, Henry. Never know what he’ll do or why. But it’s worth a try.”

* * *

Upon leaving Zafar’s bar, they happen upon Harry in the marketplace. Adam greets him with a firm handshake, and senses an atmosphere between he and Ruth. “Darling, I’m feeling a little tired, I think I will go back to our room and rest up for a while,” he says.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” she asks, not really wanting to be left alone with Harry; not after last night.

“No, you stay and look around the market,” he leans in and kisses her cheek, whispering in her ear as he does so. “Whatever is going on, sort it out; he may be our only way out of here.”

Bidding Harry good day, Adam leaves the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Harry begins. “I was drunk, but that’s no excuse for the way I behaved.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ruth tells him flatly.

“It does. I should have given you a chance to explain. Would you like to try again now I’m sober.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Why not? After all, I got stuck with the railway ticket. I think I’m entitled to know.”

“Last night I realised that you’d changed. I could have told the Harry I knew in Paris; he’d understand. But the one that looked at me with such hatred… well, I don’t know where to start with him.”

“I’m still the same person Ruth; just with a broken heart and dented pride. Was it because of the spying, the secrets? Did you realise what that would mean and decide you couldn’t live like that?”

“No. I…” she looks around, always conscious of prying eyes and ears. “Not here. Can we go to your office?”


	6. Chapter 6

As she enters, Ruth notes that Harry’s office here in Casablanca has the same layout as the one he had in Paris. Just with different furniture. She wonders if he realises that. He gestures for her to sit on the sofa that inhabits the corner of the room and he pours them both a scotch.

“So, what happened?”

“I left because I felt you’d be safer without me. With me around, you’d be looking out for both of us, dividing your time and your attentions. If the Gestapo had found us; worked out what I knew; well I wouldn’t have lasted long with their methods of… interrogation. I could risk endangering the work… or you.”

“Surely it’s the same with Carter though,” Harry replies, still not quite understanding.

Ruth doesn’t address this point, she merely continues with her story. She’ll get there eventually. “After I checked out of my hotel, I took the early morning train to Calais and I returned to England by boat. By the time I arrived back in London, I realised I’d made a terrible mistake… leaving you, but there was nothing to be done about it. I just had to make the best of it. So, I went straight to the War Office and offered my services. I explained that I had worked for you in France, but when the Germans had marched on Paris, you had insisted I return to London for my own safety. They found me a position and a remained there until about six months ago.”

“What happened then?  And I still don’t understand how being with Carter lessens the chances of danger; surely it triples it?”

“Well if you’d let me explain instead of interrupting all the time!” she admonishes; and they are both reminded of Paris, when a similar thing would happen.

“Sorry.”

“As you can imagine, my superiors in London were looking for information about the Germans what they were planning and knew that one of the best ways to get that was through contacts with the Resistance. However, some of the resistance cells are chronically disorganised and under resourced and it was taking too long for the information to get back to London. So, on hearing that Adam Carter had escaped from a German concentration camp, they sprang into action and intercepted him. He was incredibly weak; he’d been tortured, had the most horrible things done to him, but Britain nursed him back to health. In return they wanted him to share the-”

“The information from the resistance directly.”

“Yes. He is very well connected. He knows the leaders of the Resistance in all the major capitals of Europe and they are eager to share information with him. He’s an incredible agent; things seem to seep in through his skin.” Aware she is teetering on the edge of babbling, Ruth reins herself in a little. “Anyway, they requested that a British agent travel undercover with him but Adam wasn’t too keen on the idea. He felt if he travelled with another man it would look too suspicious. So he requested-“

“You.”

“Well, not me specifically, but a female agent.”

“I bet that went down well in some circles,” Harry comments.

“It certainly ruffled some feathers,” agrees Ruth.

“So you were plucked from the safety of the war office and flung in at the deep end.”

“Hardly the deep end; I’d helped you enough hadn’t I? Besides, I volunteered.”

“You did what? Why?”

“You always said I was born spook; I decided to trust you,” she quips, before turning serious. “I was bored Harry. In the war office I was just a secretary; the job held no challenge for me. You’d spoiled me for them. So I saw this as my way out. I was fast-tracked through training; weapons handling and communication and that was it.”

“You wouldn’t have been bored if you’d stayed with me,” he points out. “We could have gotten you some training if it would have made you feel safer; but you never said.”

“I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to appear week. But I thought if I took on this op, do well and prove myself then… perhaps when the war ended I’d be offered a position. A position I could then use to find you; to come and explain. Maybe even work with you again. We did make a good team.”

Harry takes a moment to digest the information. He has so many questions that his brain doesn’t know what to ask first. His heart does though.  “So you and Carter; it’s just a working relationship then?”

“It is. We pose as a couple and obviously have to keep up the pretence when in public, but in private we’re just colleagues; friends. He… sleeps on the sofa.” Ruth doesn’t understand why she feels the need to add that bit, but she does. “So, there you have it. N-now that you know the truth, you will help Adam won’t you? I know you’ve got the letters of transit.”

“Is that what all this has been about; trying to secure a way out for him?”

“No! Of course not! Come on Harry; you know what his work means to the thousands of people who still have hope. It’s was your work once too.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Is this is about what I did to you? I’ve told you I’m sorry; I can do no more. Have you become so bitter that you'll take the pain one woman caused you and make the whole world suffer because of it? You were never this selfish before.” She stops and shakes her head. “That’s not fair. Sorry. Look, I can’t change what happened… what I did, but you must understand you are Adam’s last hope. If you don’t help he will die here.

“I’m likely to die here too; I’ve heard it’s a good spot for it.”

The thought of Harry dying distresses her greatly. “Don’t! Don’t say that. Please.” The tears fill her eyes and she turns away, towards the window.

Somewhat against his better judgement, Harry moves towards her and wraps his arms around her. She turns into him, burying her face in his chest; inhaling his unmistakeable scent. Harry holds her close feeling the love that he had shut out, come rushing back into his heart.

After a few moments she begins to speak through her tears. “The day you left Paris; if you know what I went through… if you knew how much I loved you… how much I still love you.”

On hearing her words, Harry closes the gap between them and kisses her softly. Ruth is startled at first, but soon relaxes as they embrace. She marvels at how she can feel safe and secure in his arms, whilst at the same time feeling the electricity between them. When he holds her it’s as if their souls become entwined.

Pulling away, Ruth gazes up into his soft hazel eyes and whispers, "Do you still love me? Can you ever trust me again?"

Brushing her hair from her face, he kisses her again. “I never stopped loving you Ruth. That’s why it hurt so much to see you again; to think you’d moved on. As for trust, I’m not saying it will be easy but I’m willing to try.”

“I’ll never leave you again; I doubt I’ll ever have the strength too.”

“What about Adam Carter?”

“You will help him, won’t you Harry. You’ll see that he gets out of Casablanca. Then he can carry on the work.”

“But you’re supposed to be his wife; you can’t break cover.”

“But I can’t fight my feelings for you Harry. I ran away one Harry, I can’t do it again.” She sighs; torn between love and her country. “I don’t know what’s right any longer. But I trust you Harry; I’ve never stopped trusting you. You’ll have to think for both of us. For all of us. You’ll make the right choice; I know you will.”

Harry exhales slowly, feeling the burden of his responsibility. But upon regarding Ruth once more at his side, he knows what he has to do. “All right. I will.”

After embracing for a few moments, they say their goodbyes, Harry agreeing to contact her when he has decided what to do for the best.

* * *

Later that same evening, Harry shuts up the bar and sends his staff home before heading up to his office. He feels her presence as he enters and turns in her direction.

“You still haven’t mastered the art of knocking I see,” Harry comments dryly, before noting her grave expression. “What is it?”

“Adam’s been arrested! He attended a meeting of the Resistance and was caught coming back. Captain Siviter is holding him but refuses to tell me on what charge! I… I don’t know what to do. It’s all gone so very wrong!” she sobs.

Harry gathers her to him and holds her as she cries, assuring her that he will sort it out tomorrow. Once she has calmed down, he kisses her gently. “Stay with me tonight?” he whispers.

She nods against his chest, so Harry leads them to the bed, where they fall to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Harry is in Siviter’s office, trying to arrange for Adam’s release. He had awoken in the middle of the night with an idea. He’d extricated himself from Ruth’s arms and sat at his desk trying to work out all the ins and outs. By dawn, he had a plan and had slipped back into bed, with Ruth none the wiser. This meeting with Siviter was the implementation of the first phase of the plan.

“But you haven’t any actual proof and you know it. This isn’t Germany or occupied France; all you can do is fine him a few thousand francs and give him 30 days. You might as well let him go now.” Harry argues.

“Henry, I’d advise you not to be too interested in what happens to Carter. If by any chance you’re thinking of helping him to escape-”

“What makes you thing I’d stick my neck out for him?”

“Because, one, you bet ten thousand francs he’d escape. Two, you’ve got the letters of transit. Don’t bother to deny it. You might even do it because you don’t like Masel’s looks; just between us, neither do I.”

“They’re all excellent reasons,” comments Harry.

“Don’t count too much on my friendship Henry; in this matter I am powerless.”

“You’re not very subtle, but you are effective. Fine, I get the point. Yes I have the letters. I intend using them myself. I’m leaving Casablanca on tonight’s plane. The last plane. And I’m taking a friend with me; one you’ll appreciate.”

Siviter leans in, intrigued. “What friend?”

“Ruth Evershed. That ought to put your mind at rest about my helping Carter to escape. The last man I want to see leave here is him.”

“Why are you so interested in what happens to Carter then? Indeed, why do you feel the need come here and tell me all this at all? You can go any time you like; this is still a free county.”

“I’m not, but I am interested in what happens to Ruth and I want your assurance that we will be allowed to leave.”

“Why on earth would we want to hold you?”

“Ruth is Carter’s wife; she probably knows things Masel would like to know. Listen, Julien, I’ll make a deal with you. Instead of this petty charge you have against Carter, you could get something really big; something that would chuck him in a concentration camp for years. That’d be quite a feather in your cap wouldn’t it?”

Siviter ponders this for a few moments. “It certainly would. Germany and Vichy would be very grateful.”

“Wouldn’t do mine and Ruth’s relationship any harm to see him locked up either. Release him,” urges Harry. “Be at my place half an hour before the plane leaves. I’ll arrange to have Carter come and pick up the letters of transit, and that will give you the criminal grounds you need to make the arrest. You get him; Ruth and I get away. To the Germans, that last will be just a minor annoyance.”

“There’s still something about this business I don’t quite understand. Miss Evershed… you’ve never shown an interest in any woman here before...”

“She isn’t just any woman,” Harry replies.

“I see. How do I know you’ll keep you end of the bargain?”

“I’ll make the arrangements right now with Carter in the visitors pen if you’d like. You can listen in.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Siviter tells him.

Harry rises to leave. “Oh, and call off your watchers when you let him go. I don’t want them around this afternoon. I’m taking no chances Julien. Not even with you.”

Harry makes the necessary arrangements with Adam, without an audience, before heading to Ruth to tell her that he intends to help Carter leave Casablanca but that she is not to mention leaving him; that he has to believe she will be going with him up until the very last moment in order to avoid any extra complications. She agrees easily; she’ll do anything in order to be able to stay with Harry.

Kissing Ruth goodbye, Harry then makes his way to Zafar’s bar, where he sells his bar to the young entrepreneur.

“My arrangement with Malcolm has always been that he gets 20% of the profits. That stays.” He then thinks about his other staff. “Jo, Danny and Ben stay on too.”

“Of course,” agrees Zafar. “‘Henry’s’ wouldn’t be ‘Henry’s’ without them.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” He shakes Zafar’s hand. “So long.”

* * *

_Later that evening…_

Harry paces nervously in his empty office, waiting for the arrival of Adam. He wonders if he has made the right choice. Right or wrong, he’s determined to see things through. He’d spoken to his staff earlier about his decision to sell the club. They had been shocked but once they’d been assured they would remain in employment they were supportive of his decision to leave. Malcolm had been a little subdued; knowing full well that he and Harry may never meet again, but Harry vowed he would do everything he could to get him out too. Checking his watch one last time, he hears a knock at the back door.

“You’re late,” he says to Siviter as he enters.

“I was informed just as Carter and Miss Evershed left the hotel, so I knew I’d be on time,” Siviter argues.

“I thought I asked you to get rid of your watchers.”

“They won’t follow them here,” he assures. “ Y’know Henry, this place won’t be the same without you.”

“Yes, I know what you mean but don’t worry I’ve spoken to Zafar; you’ll still win at roulette.”

Siviter smiles. “Good. Is everything ready for Carter’s arrival?”

Harry taps his breast pocket. “I’ve got the letters right here.”

Just then Harry hears footsteps approaching, so directs Siviter to hide in the adjoining stockroom and, taking a deep breath, he prepares to carry out the next phase of the plan.

Adam enters and approaches Harry. “Mr Pearce, I don’t know how to thank you!”

“Save it,” Harry instructs. “We’ve still a lot of things to do.”

“I’ve brought the money Mr Pearce; as we agreed.”

“Keep it,” Harry tells him. “You’ll need it once you’re out of here. I have you booked on the last flight out to Lisbon. From there you should have no problem connecting with the Resistance fighters; They’ll help you get out to America.”

Before  Adam can thank him again, Harry suggests that he transfers the luggage to his car. Once Adam is out of ear shot, Harry turns to Ruth; she is wearing a worried expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“You still haven’t told me how we’re going to explain my abandonment of Adam to the War Office.”

“I know, but I will. Soon. You still trust me, don’t you?”

Ruth sighed and answered. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

“Then play along; no matter what happens!” Harry instructs. “Do you understand? No matter what happens, you must allow Adam to think you are leaving with him.” Ruth nods, but she still looks concerned. Harry takes her in his arms. “Everything will work out. I promise.”

When Adam returns, Harry and Ruth spring apart. Adam says nothing as Harry hands him the envelope. “The letters of transit are blank; all you need to do is fill in the names.”

As Adam takes the envelope from Harry, Siviter steps out of the shadows. “Adam Carter; you’re under arrest. For the accessory to the murder of the couriers from whom these letters were stolen.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Previously…_

_Adam says nothing as Harry hands him the envelope. “The letters of transit are blank; all you need to do is fill in the signatures.”_

_As Adam takes the envelope from Harry, Siviter steps out of the shadows. “Adam Carter; you’re under arrest. For the accessory to the murder of the couriers from whom these letters were stolen.”_

* * *

Ruth gasps; this was not part of the plan and her mind is working overtime trying to wrap itself around this unexpected development; because Harry can’t really be handing Adam over to the authorities, can he? Surely he still believes in the work as much as she does; in Britain. Then she remembers what he said; to play along whatever happened. So she does.

Adam on the other hand, surprised at the turn events have taken, looks at Harry with contempt. “What is this? What’s going on?”

“Oh, you are surprised at Henry?” Siviter asks him. “Well, the explanation is quite simple. Love, it seems has triumphed over virtue.” He turns to Harry. “Thank y-”

He stops short as he sees that Harry has pulled a gun and is pointing it directly at him. “Not so fast Julien. Nobody’s going to be arrested. Not for a while at least.”

Siviter is aghast. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I have. Sit down over there,” Harry gestures to his desk.

“Put that gun down,” Siviter orders, approaching Harry.

Harry puts a hand on his chest. “Julien, I don’t want to shoot you but I will if you take one more step.” Siviter retreats and does as instructed. “Now, call the airport and make sure that the last flight to Lisbon will be taking off as planned.” Ruth relaxes as she begins to see Harry’s plan. “And remember,” continues Harry, “I have this gun pointed at your heart."

“That is my least vulnerable spot,” Siviter comments as he reluctantly picks up the phone. “Unlike you.”

His remark distracts Harry and he doesn’t see the number that Siviter dials. He doesn’t call the airport, instead he calls Masel. “Is that the airport? This is Captain Siviter speaking. There’ll be two letters of transit for the Lisbon plane. There’s to be no trouble about them. Is that understood? Good.”

On the other end, Masel is confused and disturbed by Siviter’s phone call, so orders the police to follow him to the airport to investigate.

* * *

Siviter says nothing as he drives Harry, Ruth and Adam to the airport at gunpoint. All the officials recognise Siviter, so allow him to enter the airport without question. As Siviter pulls the car up to the hanger, Harry orders him to tell the crewmen to help Adam load the luggage onto plane.

As Adam retrieves the bags from the boot of the car, he says to Harry, “You’ve got to come with us; your life will be worthless if you stay here.”

“Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself,” Harry tells him. “I need to stay to make sure the plane gets off without any delays.” He waves the gun in Captain Siviter’s direction. “You and Ruth just get on that plane.”

As Adam approaches the plane, Ruth turns to Harry with uncertainty in her eyes. “Harry I don’t understand. Yesterday…”

“Yesterday we said a great many things Ruth. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well I’ve done that; a lot of it in fact. It all adds up to one thing; you getting on that plane with Adam.”

Ruth grabs his hand. “No Harry, I can’t!”

Harry looked at her sternly, whilst keeping an eye on Siviter. “You can and you will. If you stay here, we’ll both end up dead or in a concentration camp. Isn’t that right Captain?”

Siviter nodded casually. “I’m afraid the Major would insist on it.”

Harry gazes into her eyes and declares, “We both know you’re as much a part of the work as Adam and without you he’ll only be half as effective. You said yourself you needed the challenge. If that plane leaves tonight and you're not on it, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon and for the rest of your life.”

Ruth clutched at his hand. “But what about us?”

“We’ll always have Paris,” he answered. “We didn’t have; we’d lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back yesterday.”

“But I said I’d never leave you again.”

"And you never will." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ruth, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. I know you understand.”

“No I don’t, actually! Whatever you’ve got to do can’t be any more dangerous than what Adam is doing. I can stay with you; help you like before. I’ve had the training now.”

Harry shakes his head, but suddenly Adam re-appears, carrying Ruth’s luggage. “She’s right Harry,” he says, dropping the bag next to Ruth. “She’s a fantastic agent but she’s not going to be much use to me if she’s pining over you.”

Ruth considers objecting to the idea of her pining for anyone, but decides it’s in her best interest to keep quiet.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from someone you love,” Adam tells him. “My real wife and son are in hiding. And I think, if it’s not too bold of me to say, that you need Ruth more than I ever did.” He hands Harry one of the letters of transit; the one Ruth won’t be using. “I just hope the two of you can get of this island safely.”

Harry shakes Adam’s hand. “Thank you.” Adam nods. “You’d better hurry,” Harry continues, “you’ll miss your plane.”

“Goodbye Ruth.”

“Goodbye Adam. Good luck,” Ruth wishes as she waves him off. He rushes to the plane and Harry, Ruth and Siviter watch as it taxis down the runway. Harry instructs Ruth to get in the car, so they can leave as soon as the plane is in the air.

Just then Major Masel pulls up in his car, alone. “What was the meaning of that phone call?” he demands of Siviter.

“Adam Carter is on that plane bound for Lisbon.”

“Why do you stand here? Why do you not stop him?” Masel challenges.

“Ask Monsieur Pearce.”

Masel looks at Harry, eying the gun in his hand. He doesn’t believe Harry will shoot, so approaches the phone on the wall.

“Get away from that phone,” Harry demands.

“I’d advise you not to interfere.”

“I was willing to shoot Captain Siviter and I’m willing to shoot you.” Harry tightens his hold on his pistol as Masel picks up the phone. “Put that phone down.”

“I don’t think so,” Masel replies as he turns and pulls his own weapon on Harry. “It appears we have a stand-off Mr Pearce.”

Suddenly a shot rings out and Masel falls to the ground. Harry, who hasn’t fired, looks around to see Ruth leaning out of the car window with a smoking gun. “I couldn’t have you getting shot now could I?” she quips, hiding the gun from view once more.

The French police arrive as the plane’s wheels leave the ground and Adam is safely in the air. They see the body on the ground and look to Siviter for their orders.

“Major Masel has been shot,” he tells them, glancing at the anxious face of his one-time friend. He can’t bear to turn either him or Ruth in. “Round up the usual suspects!” he instructs and the squad leave quickly to follow their orders. Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well Harry, not only are you a sentimentalist,” begins Siviter. “You’ve also become a patriot.”

“I was always that. You should try it sometime.”

“I think perhaps you’re right.”

“What’s changed your mind?”

“I’ve always joined the side who had all the power, to give myself an easy ride but I realise it’s time to fight for something I actually believe in. I just hope I’m not too late.”

“It’s never too late to serve one’s country,” Harry tells him as they approach the car.

“Listen Henry, it might be a good idea for you and Miss Evershed disappear from Casablanca for a while. I’ll arrange exit visas for you both, free of charge.”

“Won’t they be looking for us?” Ruth asks.

“Not until Major Masel’s replacement arrives. That gives you at least 24 hours. Stay hidden tonight and I’ll get the exit visas to you first thing. You can be on the first flight out in the morning.”

“You’ll need to leave too. Once they uncover what happened here, you’ll not be safe,” Harry tells him, handing him the spare letter of transit. “Here, use this.”

“Thank you. I’ll head to the free-French garrison at Brazzavile. Maybe I can be of some use there. Good luck, Henry.”

As he walks away, Harry calls out to him. “This doesn’t make any difference to our bet you know. You still owe me twenty thousand francs!”

* * *

Harry and Ruth huddle together in back seat of the car, waiting for morning. Neither of them can sleep for fear of being discovered.

“Where will we go once we get to Lisbon?” Ruth asks. “I don’t really see you in America. You never did really have much of a spirit of Atlanticism.”

Harry smirked, remembering their conversation over dinner in Paris. “No, I didn’t really did I? My spirit of romance is still intact though, but Paris isn’t an option for now… maybe we can return there when the war is over. What if we went back to London? To help with the war effort. If Five or the War Office won’t have me back, there’s always the Special Operation’s Executive. They’d do anything to get one over on the other departments. I doubt I’ll have any trouble… Churchill made it plain that he didn’t want me to leave, so hopefully…”

“Do you think you’ll be able to argue my case with the War Office? They won’t like it that I abandoned Adam, but I want to do something purposeful in this fight.”

“It’ll be fine; I know some influential people and some of their deepest secrets.” She kisses him gently and he responds in kind. When they finally pull away he looks deep into her eyes. “When we get out of here, I’d like to court you… properly if you’d be agreeable.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” she replies with a smirk.

“Good, because I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeh, I changed the ending. But isn’t this a much more satisfying one for Harry and Ruth?! Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
